p&c.icelimit-第39章

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r　the　white　vista　beneath　them。
　McFarlane　sat　down　beside　her。　〃What　happened？〃
　She　glanced　over。　〃Do　I　really　need　to　spell　it　out？　Eli　broke　it　off。〃　She　smiled　coldly。　〃And　you　know　what？　Everything　was　going　great。　There　was　nothing　wrong。　I'd　never　been　happier　in　my　life。〃　She　paused。　〃I　guess　that's　what　spooked　him。　He　couldn't　bear　the　thought　that　it　wouldn't　always　stay　that　great。　So　when　things　couldn't　get　any　better；　he　cut　it　off。　Just　like　that。　Because　if　things　can't　get　any　better；　they　can　only　get　worse。　That　would　be　a　failure。　Right？　And　Eli　Glinn　is　a　man　who　can't　fail。〃　She　laughed　mirthlessly。
　〃But　you　two　still　think　alike；　in　some　ways；〃　said　McFarlane。　〃Like　yesterday；　in　the　library。　I　kind　of　figured　you'd　speak　up。　About　what　happened　to　Rochefort　and　Evans；　I　mean。　But　you　didn't。　Does　that　mean　their　deaths　are　okay　with　you；　too？〃
　〃Please；　Sam。　No　death　is　okay。　But　almost　every　project　I've　worked　on　with　EES　has　seen　casualties。　It's　the　nature　of　this　business。〃
　They　sat　a　moment；　looking　away　from　each　other。　Then　Rachel　rose　to　her　feet。
　〃e　on；〃　she　said　quietly；　dusting　herself　off。　〃Last　one　back　has　to　clean　the　test　tubes。〃
　
　Almirante　Ramirez；
　2：45　P。M。
　
　ANDANTE　EMILIANO　Vallenar　stood　on　the　destroyer's　puente　volante；　the　flying　bridge；　scanning　the　enormous　tanker　with　his　field　binoculars。　Slowly；　carefully；　his　eyes　traveled　from　the　bow；　along　the　maindeck；　on　and　on　and　on；　until　at　last　he　reached　the　superstructure。　As　always；　it　was　an　interesting　journey。　He　had　lingered　on　it　so　long；　and　so　carefully；　that　he　felt　he　knew　every　rusted　porthole；　every　davit；　every　smear　of　oil。　There　were　certain　things　on　this　so…called　ore　carrier　that　he　found　suspicious：　those　antennas；　hidden　low；　that　looked　distinctly　as　if　they　belonged　to　some　passive　electronic　surveillance　measuring　device。　And　a　very　tall　antenna　at　the　top　of　the　mast；　despite　its　broken　appearance；　looked　like　an　air…search　radar。
　He　lowered　the　binoculars；　reached　into　his　coat　with　a　gloved　hand；　and　pulled　out　the　letter　from　the　geologist　in　Valparaiso。
　Estimable　Sir；
　
　The　rock　which　you　so　kindly　furnished　me　is　a　somewhat　unusual　type　of　striated　quartz　…　specifically；　silicon　dioxide　…　with　microscopic　inclusions　of　feldspar；　hornblende；　and　mica。　However；　I　am　sorry　to　tell　you　that　it　is　of　no　value　whatsoever；　either　for　mercial　purposes　or　to　mineral　collectors。　In　response　to　your　specific　query；　there　are　no　traces　of　gold；　silver；　or　any　other　valuable　ores；　minerals；　or　pounds　present。　Nor　is　this　type　of　mineral　found　in　association　with　deposits　of　oil；　gas；　oil　shale；　or　other　mercial　hydrocarbon　products。
　Once　again；　I　am　humbly　sorry　to　convey　this　information　to　you；　as　it　must　surely　discourage　any　pursuit　of　your　great…uncle's　mining　claim。
　
　Vallenar　traced　the　embossed　seal　at　the　top　of　the　letter　with　his　hand。　Then；　in　a　spasm　of　disgust；　he　balled　it　in　his　fist　and　shoved　it　into　his　pocket。　The　analysis　was　not　worth　the　paper　it　was　written　on。
　Once　again；　he　raised　the　binoculars　in　the　direction　of　the　foreign　vessel。　No　ship　of　its　size　should　be　moored　here。　In　the　Horn　islands　there　was　only　one　known　anchorage；　Surgidero　Otter；　and　that　was　on　the　far　side　of　Isla　Wollaston。　In　the　Franklin　Channel；　there　was　no　decent　holding　ground　at　all；　with　the　exception　of　an　uncharted　ledge　that　he；　alone；　had　discovered。　The　currents　were　strong。　Only　a　very　ignorant　captain　would　try　to　moor　here。　And　then　he　would　have　surely　run　mooring　cables　to　shore。
　But　this　vessel　had　dropped　anchor　in　bad　ground；　and　had　been　sitting　there　for　a　number　of　days；　swinging　back　and　forth　with　the　tide　and　wind；　as　if　it　had　found　the　finest　holding　ground　in　the　world。　At　first；　Vallenar　had　been　astonished　by　this。　It　seemed　miraculous。　But　then　he　had　noticed　small；　infrequent　swirls　of　water　at　the　vessel's　stern；　and　he　realized　that　its　stern　thrusters　were　running。　Always　running。　They　were　adjusting　their　thrust　to　keep　the　ship　stationary　in　the　ever…changing　currents　of　the　channel；　except　at　the　change　of　tide；　when　he　could　see　they　were　being　used　to　swing　the　ship　around。
　And　that　could　mean　only　one　thing：　the　anchor　cables　were　a　deception。　The　ship　was　equipped　with　a　dynamic　positioning　system。　This　required　a　link　to　a　geopositioning　satellite　and　a　powerful　puter　operating　the　ship's　engines；　working　together　to　maintain　an　exact　position　on　the　surface　of　the　earth。　It　was　the　very　latest　technology。　Vallenar　had　read　about　it；　but　never　seen　it。　No　ship　in　the　Chilean　navy　was　equipped　with　DPS。　Even　in　a　small　vessel；　it　was　extremely　costly　to　install　and　burned　a　tremendous　amount　of　fuel。　And　yet　here　it　was；　on　this　alleged　shabby　converted　tanker。
　He　breathed　deeply；　swiveling　the　binoculars　from　the　ship　to　the　island　beyond。　He　took　in　the　equipment　shed；　the　road　leading　inland　to　the　mine。　There　was　a　large　scar　on　a　hillside　where　heavy　equipment　was　at　work；　beside　what　might　be　leaching　pools。　But　there　was　also　a　deception　here。　There　were　no　hydraulic　nozzles　or　sluicing　work　to　indicate　placer　mining。　Except　for　the　pools；　it　was　a　neat　operation。　Too　neat；　in　fact。　He　had　grown　up　in　a　mining　camp　in　the　north；　and　he　knew　what　they　were　like。
　In　his　heart；　the　andante　now　knew　the　Americans　were　not　digging　for　gold。　And　any　fool　could　see　they　were　not　digging　iron　ore。　It　looked　more　like　a　diamond　pipe　operation　than　anything　else。　But　if　the　Americans　were　mining　diamonds；　why　then　had　they　brought　such　a　huge　vessel　with　them？　The　whole　operation；　from　start　to　finish；　carried　a　strong　odor　of　duplicity。
　He　wondered　if　the　work　had　anything　to　do　with　the　legends　about　the　island；　the　old　myths　of　the　Yaghans。　He　vaguely　remembered　the　borracho；　Juan　Puppup；　rambling　on　about　some　legend　in　the　bar　one　evening。　He　tried　to　remember　what　it　was：　something　about　an　angry　god　and　his　fratricidal　son。　When　he　got　his　hands　on　Puppup；　he　would　make　sure　the　mestizo's　last　earthly　act　would　be　to　tell　him　everything　he　knew。
　Footsteps　approached；　then　the　oficial　de　guardia；　the　officer　of　the　deck；　appeared　at　his　side。　〃andante；〃　the　man　said；　snapping　a　salute。　〃Engine　room　reports　all　engines　on　line。〃
　〃Very　well。　Make　your　course　zero　nine　zero。　And　please　send　Mr。　Timmer　to　me。〃
　The　officer　saluted　again；　then　turned　and　left　the　flying　bridge。　Vallenar　scowled　as　he　watched　the　man　retreat　down　the　metal　stairway。　New　orders　had　e　in；　as　usual；　they　amounted　to　more　worthless　patrolling　in　desolate　waters。
　With　his　good　hand；　he　reached　into　the　pocket　of　his　jacket　and　found　the　chunk　of　rock　that　had　been　returned　with　the　letter。　It　was　barely　larger　than　a　prune。　And　yet　he　was　convinced　it　held　the　secret　to　what　the　Americans　were　doing。　They　had　learned　something　from　the　prospector's　machine　and　the　sack　of　rocks。　Something　important　enough　to　bring　a　vast　amount　of　money　and　equipment　to　this　remote；　dangerous　place。
　Vallenar　clutched　the　rock　tightly。　He　needed　to　know　what　the　Americans　knew。　If　the　moronic　geologist　at　the　university　could　not　help　him；　he　would　find　somebody　who　could。　He　knew　that　Australia　had　some　of　the　best　geologists　in　the　world。　That　was　where　he　would　send　it；　by　urgent　express。　They　would　unlock　the　pebble's　secret。　Then　he　would　know　what　they　were　after。　And　how　to　respond。
　〃Sir！〃　The　voice　of　Timmer　intruded　on　his　thoughts。
　Vallenar　glanced　over　at　the　man's　trim　figure；　standing　at　rigid　attention；　glanced　over　his　blue　eyes　and　sunbleached　hair；　his　spotless　uniform。　Even　in　a　crew　that　had　been　drilled　for　instant；　instinctive　obedience；　Oficial　de　unicaciones　Timmer　stood　out。　His　mother　had　e　to　Chile　from　Germany　in　1945；　a　beautiful　woman；　cultivated；　sensual。　Timmer　had　been　raised　with　discipline。　And　he　was　no　stranger　to　the　use　of　force。
　〃At　ease；〃　said　Vallenar；　his　tone　softening。　Timmer　relaxed　almost　imperceptibly。
　Vallenar　clasped　his　hands　behind　his　back　and　gazed　out　at　the　flawless　sky。　〃We　are　heading　east；〃　he　said；　〃but　we　will　return　here　tomorrow。　Bad　weather　is　expected。〃
　〃Yes；　sir。〃　Timmer　continued　staring　straight　ahead。
　〃On　that　day；　I　will　have　an　assignment　for　you。　It　will　involve　a　degree　of　risk。〃
　〃I　look　forward　to　it；　sir。〃
　andante　Vallenar　smiled。　〃I　knew　you　would；〃　he　said；　the　faintest　touch　of　pride　in　his　voice。
　
　Rolvaag；
　2：50　P。M。
　
　MCFARLANE　PAUSED　just　inside　the　outer　door　of　the　Rolvaag's　sick　bay。　He'd　always　had　a　morbid　fear　of　doctors'　offices　and　hospitals　…　any　place　with　intimations　of　mortality。　The　Rolvaag's　waiting　room　was　devoid　even　of　the　false　sense　of　tranquillity　such　places　ordinarily　tried　to　project。　The　well…thumbed　magazines；　the　shabby　Norman　Rockwell　reproductions；　were　missing。　The　only　decoration　was　a　large　medical　school　poster　detailing；　in　full　color；　various　diseases　of　the　skin。　The　place　smelled　so　strongly　of　rubbing　alcohol　and　iodine　that　McFarlane　believed　the　strange　old　doctor　must　be　using　them　for　rug　cleaner。
　He　hesitated　a　moment；　feeling　a　little　foolish。　This　errand　can　wait；　he　thought。　But　then；　with　a　deep　breath；　he　found　himself　walking　across　the　room　and　into　a　long　hallway。　He　stopped　at　the　last　door　and　rapped　on　the　frame。
　Captain　Britton　and　the　doctor　were　inside；　quietly　discussing　a　chart　that　lay　open　on　the　table　between　them。　Brambell　sat　back　in　his　chair；　casually　closing　the　folder　as　he　did　so。　〃Ah；　Dr。　McFarlane。〃　The　dry　voice　held　no　surprise。　He　stared　at　McFarlane；　eyes　unblinking；　waiting。　
　This　can　wait；　he　thought　again。　But　it　was　too　late；　they　were　both　looking　at　him　expectantly。　〃Masangkay's　effects；〃　he　said　aloud。　〃Those　things　with　the　body？　Now　that　you've　pleted　the　tests；　can　they　be　released？〃
　Brambell　continued　to　look　at　him。　It　was　a　stare　not　of　human　passion　but　of　clinical　interest。　〃There　was　nothing　of　value　among　them；〃　he　answered。
　McFarlane　leaned　against　the　doorframe　and　waited；　refusing　to　betray　anything　to　the　watchful　eyes。　At　last；　the　doctor　sighed。　〃Once　they've　been　photographed；　I　see　no　reason　to　keep　them。　What　precisely　are　you　interested　in？〃
　〃Just　let　me　know　when　they're　ready；　will　you？〃　McFarlane　pushed　himself　away　from　the　frame；　nodded　to　Britton；　and　turned　back　toward　the　waiting　room。　As　he　pulled　open　the　outer　door；　he　heard　quick　footsteps　behind　him。
　〃Dr。　McFarlane。〃　It　was　Captain　Britton。　〃I'll　walk　topside　with　you。〃
　〃Didn't　mean　to　break　up　the　party；〃　McFarlane　said；　swinging　out　into　the　hall。
　〃I　have　to　get　back　up　to　the　bridge　anyway。　I'm　expecting　an　update　on　that　approaching　storm。〃
　They　moved　down　the　wide　corridor；　dark　except　for　the　regular　stripes　of　sunlight　that　slanted　inward　from　the　round　portholes。
　〃I'm　sorry　about　your　friend　Masangkay；　Dr。　McFarlane；〃　she　said　with　unexpected　kindness。
　McFarlane　glanced　at　her。　〃Thanks。〃　Even　in　the　dim　corridor；　her　eyes　were　bright。　He　wondered　if　she　was　going　to　probe　his　nostalgic　desire　for　Nestor's　effects；　but　she　remained　silent。　Once　again；　he　was　struck　by　an　indefinable　feeling　of　kinship。　〃Call　me　Sam；〃　he　said。
　〃Oka